


Caw Caw Motherfucker

by groovyphilia



Series: Caw Caw Motherfucker [1]
Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crack, Crow!Erik, Gen, Non-powered AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-25
Updated: 2012-09-25
Packaged: 2017-11-15 00:13:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/520996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/groovyphilia/pseuds/groovyphilia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles had only wanted to take out the trash. He didn't ask for a crow sitting smugly on his head.</p><p>In which Erik is a possessive crow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Caw Caw Motherfucker

**Author's Note:**

> A short and silly thing based on something that happened to me yesterday morning.

Charles had been determinedly wrestling with his dustbins when a loud ' _caw_ ' sounded by his ear.

The shock, unfortunately, resulted in a spectacularly graceless fumble with the garbage bags, and several empty milk cartons tumbling to the floor. Charles swore loudly, and turned to face the offending culprit.

The crow on the wall looked back at him imperiously.

"Good morning to you too, my friend," Charles said dryly, picking the cartons up from the floor. While he wasn't exactly known for an affinity with animals, this particular crow had apparently taken a shine to him - either that, or it found his weekly ritual of taking out the trash deeply fascinating.

It was probably telling of how lonely Charles was that he was perfectly happy to hold a conversation with a bird every Sunday. It was even more telling that he'd actually  _named_  the thing.

"Well, Erik, I hope you're happy," he grumbled, gathering the bags precariously in his hands. "I ought to have the landlord chase you off, you know. You're an absolute nuisance, pecking at the trash and fighting with the cats."

Charles received a smug _caw_  in response.

"A hopeless dream," he sighed, squeezing the final bag into the bin at last, and slamming the lid shut. "Shaw couldn't get rid of you if he tried. Now, if you don't mind, I'll be getting the second lot."

Charles turned, starting towards the main entrance. There was a rustle of wings.

A tiny set of talons landed neatly in his hair.

Charles froze. Slowly, cautiously, he inclined his head gently to the side, and was rewarded with a loud  _'caw'_  and talons digging into his scalp. Apparently, there was a bird on his head.

"...Erik?" Charles said cautiously.

" _Caw_ ," said Erik. 

"Erik," Charles said again, "Please get off."

The responding  _caw_  sounded far too amused for his comfort.

***

It was autumn when Erik had decided the man in room 121A was his favourite source of entertainment.

Part of it was probably because he was so  _jumpy_. The human jumped every time Erik sneaked up behind him and gave a loud  _caw_. He'd sputter and jog over, hands waving, every time he caught Erik pecking at dustbins. He'd sigh every time he spotted Erik sitting on the wall, gleefully awaiting his free show of the man wrestling his garbage bags into the too-small bins.

"You're an awfully frequent visitor, aren't you?" The human had said one day, turning from the bins with hands on his slim hips. "We might as well get to know each other. I'm Charles."

" _I'm Max_ ," said Erik.  _Caw._

"Erik it is, then," said the obviously-deaf Charles. But, well, one name was as good as another.

It took only a few days to discover plenty about this  _Charles_. He was a professor at the nearby university, for one thing. He taught genetics and a smattering of other courses. He had a cat named Raven that did not appreciate having her tail pulled by a sharp beak.

He was also very, very lonely.

It made sense, since no other human had really bothered to talk to Erik before. Most were content to shoo him off or avoid him warily. Not Charles, though - if anything, the human talked a little bit  _too_  much.

"Nevermore," Charles said to him, one night.

" _Fuck you_ ," Erik said in annoyance, but Charles only looked pleased. 

Despite Charles' neglect in distinguishing between Erik's kind and their cousins, he had endeared himself to Erik far more quickly than the crow would like to admit. It was only natural that a day would come when Erik decided he would have to inform Charles he belonged to him.

That is, of course, how he ended up perched possessively on Charles' head.

"Get off," Charles was saying.

 _"No,"_  Erik responded.  _"You are mine now. I will stay on your head and look about for threats. You had best get used to it._ "

A few exasperated head-tilts later, and Charles finally seemed to resign himself to his fate - as Erik knew he would. He stood proudly on his perch, talons gripping gently into soft brown locks as Charles trudged defeatedly into his apartment.

Now all he had to do was to claw Shaw's eyes out, and his life would be perfect. 


End file.
